


a sky full of stars (gonna give you my heart)

by doubtthestars



Series: say you will [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: GUESS WHAT, Gen, M/M, Marriage Proposal, im not over this verse, world cup shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 04:31:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3964462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doubtthestars/pseuds/doubtthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The World Cup brings more than gold home. Louis has more than one medal given to him by people he loves. The first, eighteen years ago. The second, today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a sky full of stars (gonna give you my heart)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vulcanistics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcanistics/gifts).



> *gun hands* pew pew surpriiiise.

Louis drops to his knees and looks up to the night sky surrounded in a halo of stadium lights, the people all blur together, swimming in his vision in colors like a Monet painting.

He doesn’t think about Italy or Spain or Colombia. He can’t think beyond _we did it_. Their last few matches were a struggle of close-calls and adrenaline rushes. The refs had been particularly stubborn on giving them any breaks, but they did it. _Noah_ did it. 

He focuses, sees the pile the striker is buried under, a mass of shouting, writhing limbs that all want to congratulate the Klose who did it all. Julian steps away, sweeps Louis into a strong hold, with his head colliding into his stomach. Louis laughs. 

“I could kiss Noah right now, but I respect your relationship and Fi will be here soon anyway.” Julian lets go, and Louis can see the families start to descend onto the pitch. Miro has been swallowed into the pile of sweaty players. 

His dad is coming straight for him, Bastian paces away, hugging Sahin, who had met his idol two years back when called up for the Euros and now, they were both in the record books. 

He is dazed, his legs not cooperating as Julian goes to find Kai and console his best friend. The van der Wiel kid had started crying on the bench after the whistle blew, Louis felt bad, but he couldn’t tamp down the ever-growing disbelief of winning. It is the best feeling in the world to be world cup champion. 

Louis’ hazy memory of holding Bastian’s hand and being on his father’s shoulders, of Jogi crying and his mom letting him go by himself to congratulate the team is overlapped by being the one of the field for ninety minutes, being on the bus laughing with his teammates, Paul singing atrociously, Noah smiling at a scrimmage match.

Lukas Podolski is once more celebrating a German victory in a stadium packed to see his son’s generation. He gathers Louis into his arms, kneels right down with him even as his knees protest the action. 

“I told you, one day you would get a medal of your own. A gold one just like the one I put on you in Rio.” Louis stares at him with tears in his eyes, mirroring his own identical ones. The smile on Lukas’s face is much wider, fueled by pride and happiness for his son getting to experience this all on his own.

He was so proud. 

Bastian finally gets to them and pulls them up from the ground with steady hands. The hug expands, they jump around whooping and Louis had no doubt if he would let them, they would lift him up like a king.

“Go celebrate with those kids over there and leave the old men behind.” Bastian teases, pushing him in the right direction. Louis looks to Lukas and his father steps closer to Basti, wrapping an arm around his waist. He goes to find Noah.

“Laundry says he’ll do it right here, right now.” Lukas snorts.

“You’re on, I say he waits until they’re alone. He is Mirek’s kid you know?” Bastian smiles slyly, knocks his knuckles against Lukas’s chin.

“Might I remind you who the manager of this team is and who handles all of the press? Our young Klose had a lot of questions in our meeting, particularly with what FIFA regulations had to say about a public proposal.” Lukas shakes his head in a defeated manner. 

“Why even bet then?” Bastian kisses his cheek. 

“Because you always take the chance.” They walk on to watch the ceremony and find the rest of their friends. An internet article had mentioned this had to be the most star-studded audience for a World Cup ever, not to mention all of the former star athletes that comprised the managerial side of the international teams.

Marco and Mario had especially made a splash at the semi-final against Italy, wearing their support with the Germany kits, though Mario had been interviewed in Italian to give his perspective on his adopted country versus his own home side. Marco had not been present, shying away from the cameras.

Louis hadn’t found Noah with Miro and Slywia, but with Luan, Soley and Lamia. Soley scrambled off Noah’s back and unsubtly dug her elbow into the striker’s side. 

“Ow, Soley, you know I still have to walk up half a million steps to get a medal right?” Noah complained, but Luan managed to help his brother look in the right direction. 

“Yeah, I know because I did it first, nyah.” Soley stuck out her tongue, still gloating about her win with the women’s team in Rome.

“Oh, hey.” Noah completely ignores the familiar victory pose Soley is in at the sight of Louis. Lamia distracts her from further action by asking her how her mentoring was going with Abby Mueller. Soley starts talking, until she abruptly cranes her head around to look for someone, muttering about owing a punch.

Noah can’t help the reflexive nerves flooding his body. Louis doesn’t so much hug him as jump into his arms.

“Just imagine I’m kissing you right now.” He whispers and Noah lifts the shorter man up more, smiling like a loon. “Weltmeister samma, den Pott hamma.” He shouts, lifting an arm. Their closest teammates, especially their Bayern ones, look up and around to find Klose and Podolski wrapped up in each other laughing like always.

The trek up to the stage is long but when Noah get hold of the trophy, everyone roars out in victory. Paul, easily the tallest of them, starts jumping and chanting, “Die nummer eins der Welt sind wir!” Their hands go up, passing the golden cup to everyone. 

Miro is beside himself, looking at the trophy that was his greatest coaching accomplishment and the boys who delivered it to him. 

The team huddles around the cup, bends down and swings up with their feet kicking. The gold around their necks gleam in unison as they jump with their arms still around one another.

“This is the generation of sons that hail from many winners, from the World Cup to the FA Cup. How does it feel to be the coach of a cup-winning team, eighteen years after winning your own and setting a record equalled by both Thomas Mueller who was in the crowd today, and Cristiano Ronadlo Jr. who was in the semi-finals?” 

“Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I’ve seen these young men play at their best today and I couldn’t be prouder, to me, they are all part of my family, they are all in part my sons and to share this moment with them is incredible.” Miro replies to the reporter with muted joy in his eyes for more than one reason.

Noah had foregone the ring, mostly because Luan had it and he was barricaded by security and the other people waiting to see glimpses of the team. He improvised and took off his medal to place it on Louis. 

“Noah, what are you doing--?” They are surrounded by their teammates half-dressed and the staff in charge of their dressing room. Miro was going to let the rest of the higher-ups come in shortly.

“Marry me?” He kneels on one leg with both his hands in Louis’ and smiles to cover up his fear. 

The music and televisions don’t stop, and their friends don’t bother to stop their drunken revelry, though Julian does pull out his phone to snap the first of many photographs and the only one documenting the moment years later.

The world still feels like it’s standing still until Louis replies with a simple, “Okay.” Felix snorts and turns away from the couple, telling Paul that was the most anticlimactic answer ever and to hand him a beer.

“Just okay?” Noah gets up, brushing his knees. Louis smiles like the sun peeking out through clouds and Noah forgives the strange response because, because Louis had agreed and they were going to get _married_. 

“You really shouldn’t tell someone like my step-father such a big secret. My dad’s been acting weird for a while now, and yes, it would make me very happy to be a hyphenated Klose.” Noah shivers in delight with a thrill at the mention of his name attached to Louis.

“Podolski-Klose? That won’t fit on any jersey.” Noah and Louis don’t try to hide their giddy lovestruck faces. One moment they are standing in the aftermath of a final, the next there are fireworks going off, engaged and kissing like it was the first time around again.

“Get a rooom, oh too late.” Karsten yells, and that’s how the German Chancellor and several representatives of the DFB were greeted with the sight of their world cup winners cat-calling and whistling to celebrate their engaged teammates. 

Toni as the assistant coach was not so amused. Miro just covered his smile with a hand and shook his head. 

That was definitely one way to break the news.

Another was Mats, who was in a studio, recapping the game for ESPN. Robin van Persie looked askance as Mats jumped in his seat and then smoothed down his tie. His eyes were glued to another screen with footage from the interviews. Louis with two medals around his neck and Noah with none.

“What are you smiling about?” Joe asks, not giving van Persie the chance.

“Germany winning again, obviously, Harty. And making some money from a bet if you must know.” They were waiting for the cameras to roll again. Robin makes a face and Joe snickers a little.

“You bet on the game?” van Persie asks with a tiny bit of resentment. Mats snorts, still looking loads better than the former Netherlands player. 

“Like I would doubt in my boys, no, but I guess you wouldn’t know anything about that anyway. Podolski with two medals only means one thing.” Joe almost gets whiplash at how many insults Mats managed to pack in that sentence. The German was pointing at the screen that had caught his attention earlier.

Louis Podolski answering a question, who he dedicated the win to, “My mother, my father, but most of all, Germany.” He glances off to the side as the reporter thanks him for his time and Joe raises an eyebrow, because any intrepid soul would know exactly where he's looking, or rather who he's looking at. 

“Woj wasn’t joking, they are disgustingly obvious, Delilah’s gonna need her Uncle Joe to break the news gently, she’s always been fond of the Klose kid.” Mats rears back in his chair to start a round of quips but they get the signal to get ready. 

“We’re back with more coverage of the World Cup final, here in the Swedbank Stadion in Malmö, joining us at the table is former World Cup winner Mats Hummels and former Netherlands captain Robin van Persie.” Joe starts with a smile.

Weeks later, the CSD Magazine published an interview with the Klose and Podolski families. Die Welt and BILD dedicated their covers to pictures of past and present world cup winners, but the main section featured a picture of Lukas and Louis hugging on the pitch and the infamous selfie of Lukas and Basti next to a newer version, Miro standing next to Noah and Noah holding the world cup with Louis by his side with their two medals.

THE WORLD CUP: A FAMILY AFFAIR.

**Author's Note:**

> I guesstimated the eighteen years after 2014. I'm also hand-waving ages because I can't do math, either way, a Lahm-Mertesacker duo had to be in the German team. There's so many tiny easter eggs of ~world cup history & general DFB stuff. I'm sorry.
> 
> (I don't hate van Persie. It was just a good opportunity and I took it. Why would Joe Hart be hosting for ESPN? IDK I just wanted to roll with it.)


End file.
